


Ad Infinitum

by DHW



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7680727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/pseuds/DHW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy wants to feel. Giles wants her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ad Infinitum

**Author's Note:**

> **Setting:** Early season 6
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Not mine. They belong to Joss. Just playing with them – will put them back when I’ve finished. Promise.

She is a Goddess.

Powerful and dark, she is beauty; the personification of all he desires. She stands tall with full breasts and slender arms, as pale as the ghost she isn’t and twice as enchanting. Endless legs, bound by fabric and skin, curve up to sweet, round hips and a flat stomach. Loose curls fall down to her shoulders in a wave of golden silk, feather-like tendrils caressing her delicate skin. A fallen angel, torn from heaven, made glamorous with her blood-red lips and porcelain features. She oozes false innocence, seducing his soul with deception worthy of a master. 

He wants her.

She beckons him, her slender fingers curling in a gesture of power. Red nails glint in the lamplight, sharp and deadly, slicing through the still air. The cat’s claws drawn to capture prey. Her smile is sickly sweet with promise, and her hazel eyes burn with more than simple lust. An idol of fire and red leather, she is conscienceless and vengeful with barely tamed fury. 

“Come to me,” she says, her full lips curving sinfully around each syllable. 

And he comes, like the selfish man he is, hungry for all she will offer him. 

\--

Skin to skin, flesh to flesh, she backs him against the stone wall, entertaining dark thoughts and darker desires. 

She tears open her shirt, pearly buttons scattering across the floorboards like rain, revealing the tiny scraps of lace that lie beneath. His gaze is drawn down, green eyes cataloguing every curve and peak. Her hips stroke against his, hands capturing his slender waist, pulling him closer until he can feel her heat. Cotton and lace create a mind-numbing friction, and he feels lost. He seeks her mouth with his own, knowing nothing but her touch and the beating of her heart.

The kiss is all teeth and tongues, animalistic rather than passionate. Slender necks arc, and eyes flutter closed, each enslaved to sensation. Her touches are soft but bruising in their intensity, leaving his lips sore and red. She tastes of coffee and cinnamon and death. And is so very unfamiliar. 

She forces her way into his mouth, moaning as her tongue touches his, thrusting it in and out with the rhythm of her hips. Overcome with sensation, he bites down hard on her lower lip and the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. Evidence of a life she lives once more, of the gift she never wanted.

They pull apart, breathless and shuddering, forcing the icy air deep into smoke-blackened lungs. His green eyes snap open, the pupils pools of darkness absolute. 

Skilful fingers, stained and calloused, whip down his chest, opening his jacket in careful, calculated movements. The heavy black material falls from his shoulders, making the still air whisper around them. He rips his stiff-collared shirt, impatient in his desire, and his chest is exposed to the chill of the night. Her skirt follows suit, sliding down her thighs with an almost painful slowness until she stands naked before him. Perfection in skin and lace, with fire burning in her eyes. 

He moans, the sound deep and carnal, as her hands skim over the bulge in his trousers, pulling down the zipper tooth by tooth. Metallic clicks fill the air as she releases him from his tight confines. His trousers fall to the floor and he is left bare in the heat of her gaze. 

She takes hold of him, her palm gliding over the silken skin in sure strokes. His cock throbs, hard and weeping, as she tortures him. It’s frustratingly slow and he becomes impatient, grasping her by the shoulders and slamming her hard against the cold wall. 

Pinning her hands above her head, he grinds against her, watching her arch in pleasure. Her eyes flutter shut, but not before he sees the glint of rage that lurks there, angry at his show of dominance. He smirks salaciously, growling as he rubs up against her fevered skin.

He knows she could stop him if she wanted. That she could turn the tables, tear her hands from his and take control. Even now, after the stillness of death and the chill of the grave, she could best him, beat him, bully him. 

But she doesn’t.

With his free hand, he rips away her knickers, the tiny scrap of red lace tearing with little resistance. Her legs come up around his waist as he thrusts in, wet warmth enveloping him with a vice-like grip. She’s tight: a woman of pleasure and pain, with an empty gaze and a rictus grin. 

His first thrust hits her hard and deep, making her moan. Her voice echoes through the cold, night air, crackling with power and passion. It urges him on, telling him: faster, deeper, harder. And he complies, feeling her body blaze in his arms, each thrust adding to the white-hot flame residing in her veins.

She meets his every movement, rolling her hips as the darkness within begins to take hold. Her expression becomes shuttered, hazel eyes narrowing as she hisses with pleasure. Like a rose, she blooms, her petals full and of the deepest red; an ornament of his fulfilment. 

They continue their dance, the steps becoming frantic as they head closer towards the precipice. Magic, unbound in the face of their dual craving, rises, unbidden, from the void. It swirls around them, the caress of blue and red light taking them higher. 

She breaks first, sinking her teeth deep into his shoulder, biting him hard as she rides the waves of her release. His narrow hips flex, forcing himself as deep as he can go, and he follows, whispering her name like a prayer. 

The light fades and they sink back into darkness. 

\--

They collapse against the cold stone, sweating and bleeding. His forehead presses against hers and he can feel her hot breath brush against his lips. Her skin, pale and perfect, glimmers softly in the lamplight, flushed with exertion. 

Gritting his teeth, he slips out, gathering her close. But she keeps her distance, placing her palms upon his chest and pushing him away. 

“Adequate, Giles,” she says, her eyes cold and hard. They swirl with hate for a liberty stolen. She rises, walking, naked, to the door, her hips swinging.

“Buffy…” 

She shakes her head. “You should have stopped them.”

And then she is gone.


End file.
